The Legends of Brawlhalla (gotta love the double meaning)
by The Son of Janus
Summary: A series of shorts, based on the lore of Brawlhalla.


So no one has written any Brawlhalla fanfiction as of yet, (except for this one guy called Lucky96u, you should check him out) and I felt inspired by the character lore. So that's the entirety of why I'm writing this series of mini-shorts, based on the characters bios, one short per character, (presumably. I'll probably make multiple chapters per character in the future.)

So yeah. It starts with Bödvar. Enjoy.

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Bödvar had been traveling for days when he finally saw it. Valhalla. The Hall of the Mighty. The one place he felt he would truly fit in. It looked magnificent as described in the sagas. It was also guarded by a god. " _Hmm"_ Bödvar thought, " _this could be an issue."_ The god in question, was right across Bifrost, The Rainbow Bridge, perched on a wooden chair, under a canopy, horn in one hand, cup in the other. His name was Heimdall, and to get into Valhalla, Bödvar would have to get past him. Or die trying, it really doesn't matter, it would have the exact same result. But I digress.

Anyway, with this thought in mind, Bödvar marched right across Bifrost, and proudly said to Heimdall, "I am Bödvar Bearson, offspring of human and bear, protector of the people of the north, he who led the Skandian people against the Witch Queen of Helheim, he who slew the White Dragon Sorcerer, and he who single-handedly ended the Giant Wars, by trapping the fire giant king, Surt, in his own volcano. Let me into the Hall of the Mighty, so I may forever fight and feast." Heimdall looked down at him with a bored expression on his face. "No." He said bluntly.

Bödvar looked at him, aghast. "No!? WHAT DO YOU MEAN, NO!?" Heimdall looked thoroughly amused. "I'm only supposed to let in those who have fallen in battle. You, haven't yet died, much less fallen in battle. Goodbye now." Bödvar stepped forward, his anger evident with the fire in his eyes. "I came here, to revel in the glory of combat, and drink lots of beer, until Ragnorak. Are you telling me, I can't go in?" Heimdall took a sip of his drink, and yawned. "Are you still here?", he asked. That appears to have been the breaking point for Bödvar, as the next words out of his mouth were "Listen you nine-mothered bridge troll, I'm coming in, and the first beer I'm drinking is the one in your fist."

Heimdall rose up angrily, sword in hand. Where he pulled the sword from, I have no idea. He's a god, god's can do stuff like that. Ok, fine, fair enough.

Back to the story. After being insulted like that, especially since he's, you know, a god, since god's hate insults even more than humans do, he was pissed. "First of all," he started, anger barely contained, "I am no mere troll," he spat out the word, "I am a GOD!" he yelled. "SECOND, of all, this is not beer, this is mead. THIRD of all, if you do not leave now, then I will have to forcibly remove you." Bödvar took out his hammer, and said, "I'm not going anywhere. You, on the other hand, are going to the realm of dreams, Nótt," and before Heimdall could react, Bödvar hit him on the head, with the hammer, knocking him out cold.

Ya know, I knew Bödvar would lose. I mean, he was faced with a freaking god after all, but at least he still made it, into valha-he won. What? What do mean he won!? Just that, Bödvar took out his hammer, and did a one hit KO, literally. Seriously!? Dear Thor, what, did he train with Kratos, or something? You're getting sidetracked. Oh yeah. Just, remember, don't mess with Bödvar. And for the love of Odin, do not, I repeat, DO, NOT, try this at home. Or anywhere for that matter. Getting sidetracked again. Right, I'll get back to the story now.

Bödvar smiled triumphantly, swung his hammer at the doors, broke them down, and let himself in. After the shock of seeing an unconscious god, just laying there, Bödvar was accepted with open arms. And true to his word, the first beer - er, mead - that he drank, was the one in Heimdall's fist, (although, there wasn't exactly much left, considering the fact that the hand was, you know, limp, from the whole 'lack of consciousness', thing. Still though, it's the thought that counts. Or so I'm told).

* * *

Right, well, that's the end of that particular story, who's next? Cassidy.

...Right, that's gonna be tricky. Huh, I have no idea how I'm gonna write her story. Maybe I should skip to Orion…? Ah, we'll see. Maybe inspiration will strike me, and I'll be able to write her story, but yeah, we'll see.

Now get out. I don't want to see you again till the next chapter. But, ah, on your way out, please drop a review/follow/favourite, or any combination of three. Completely optional of course, but very much recommended.


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